


Of Loss & Legacies

by sten06



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, F/F, Finale missing scene, Post-Canon Fix-It, SuperCorp, finale fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 15:33:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sten06/pseuds/sten06
Summary: A missing supercorp scene from 2x22, after everything settles.





	Of Loss & Legacies

**Author's Note:**

> Lena's POV. A much needed Lena comforting Kara scene.

The dust settles, and the silence becomes deafening. There’s no longer shooting. No screaming, fighting, running, scrambling. All at once, it feels like everything stops, including time, and then as quickly as they came, the Daxamites are gone. One by one, the planes leave, and one by one, the threat is over. There is a collective sigh of relief as humans and aliens begin to emerge out from every nook and cranny, the overturned rubble below suddenly teeming with life. 

National City is mangled, but still beating.

Lena isn’t sure she can say the same of her heart.

The cheers start slowly, a dull, quiet roar that becomes louder and louder, floating through the cracks in her office windows. She hears the yells of victory from the streets below, and she can almost feel the thrill of success permeate her body and lift her spirits. Almost.

“The press is going to be here any minute,” Lillian declares, her voice strong with triumph as she hangs up her phone, “we should be prepared.”

Lena stares longingly out the window, staring out over the horizon, looking for a sign. She’s still out there, and she isn’t celebrating. She’s broken, and Lena feels it. This isn’t how it was supposed to end.

She’s broken because Lena broke her.

“You go ahead,” Lena says softly, her fingers grazing along the glass windows, straining to touch something that isn’t there. “I don’t want any part of it.”

“Lena, this is your legacy. You are the Luthor that saved the Earth, just like I said you would be,” Lillian glides over slowly, staring out the window, following Lena’s gaze. “Now isn’t the time to be modest.” She gingerly rests a slender hand on Lena’s shoulder, but Lena shirks her gesture.

She scoffs, her jaw clenched in defiance. She wants to scream at the ridiculousness of it all. To go on national TV and proclaim victory for something that never would have happened if she wasn’t so vulnerable, so weak, so pathetic in the first place? It was comical. Yes, she blames Lillian for causing her to feel the need to fill that motherly void, and chase affection, chase approval, chase something, but mostly, she blames herself.

She blames herself for being foolish. She blames herself for falling short.

She blames herself for not knowing better.

Luthors never win. Not today, and not ever.

“It isn’t modesty, Mother, it’s common sense. I caused this, and just because I knew how to stop it, doesn’t mean I get to go parade around and declare a holiday,” Lena’s voice quivers, but she holds her ground. “But by all means, enjoy your day in the sun.” she gestures to the door, just as the phone rings.

Lillian hesitates, but nods curtly before exiting.

Lena palms her own phone delicately, tracing the screen slowly, her lips pursed with indecision. She’s aching, but she knows the pain she feels is nothing compared to what she’s done to Kara.

The pain she’s caused her.

She doesn’t know if Mon-El made it out alive, or if his fate was sealed as soon as Supergirl pressed the button. She doesn’t know if Kara was with him at the end, or if she had to find out later. She doesn’t know if Kara even knows -- if Kara even knows what happened, or who created the weapon, or why.

She doesn’t know if she even has Kara to think of anymore.

Instead, the world spins madly on, thanks to her brilliance, but she can’t find it in herself to smile. The Earth is preserved, the alien menace is gone and Lena Luthor watches it all unfold from the top window of her office, completely and wholly alone.

* * *

 

She wants to wait, but she can’t. Too much has happened, and too many words have been left unsaid. Kara was sure to check on her briefly after her return from the Daxamite ship, but even that could only be in passing, before Rhea unleashed her terror.

Lena didn’t get a chance to thank her. She didn’t get a chance to tell her she was sorry. Sorry for falling into Rhea’s plans, sorry for agreeing to marry Mon-El, sorry for ultimately leaving Supergirl behind. All of it.

She didn’t get a chance to tell her anything beyond _“I’m safe.”_

“Thank Rao.” Kara had whispered, and it wasn’t curious at the time, but the more she replays the conversation, and the entire ordeal, the more everything seems skewed.

So many moments that don’t add up, so many people involved that shouldn’t have been. 

Then again, there were also so many people not involved, that should have been. Kara’s curious absence, for one, stands out glaringly. When everyone else seemed to band together, the blonde reporter was nowhere to be found.

Lena wants to process it all, analyze the angles, study it the way she would her science projects.

But at the same time, she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to know for sure.

She doesn’t want to be right.

 She can only wait a day before showing up at Kara’s apartment, clutching a bouquet of flowers, the gesture weakening with every step closer she gets. It seems trivial, this game of floral arrangements they play, back and forth, as symbols of thanks, of love, of sympathy. They’re used in lieu of words. They’re used because sometimes there’s too much to say. They’re used because deep down, Lena is terrified.

She doesn’t know how to comfort, because it’s always been Kara having to carry her. Not that she wants to be carried, or sees herself a worthy object of anyone’s affection, but that’s just how it’s been. Kara is Kara, and she heals. She doesn’t break.

Lena doesn’t know what to do now that the tables are turned, or if Kara will even let her. When she has so many people in her life, she doubts that she’s the one Kara will cling to.

But she tries.

She shows up. She’s there.

She’s always been strong enough to carry herself, and now hopefully, she can carry another.

She knocks and waits. She doesn’t hear the normal rustle inside, or feel the warmth that Kara’s apartment somehow always radiates. She doesn’t hear footsteps, or the muffled voices of the TV. It’s dark, and vacated. It’s empty and cold.

Her heart drops.

She leaves the flowers with a note, and she slowly walks away.

The following day, she repeats it. She goes to Kara’s apartment, but this time, she’s sure she hears quiet sniffling. She thinks she might be imagining it, but she presses her ear delicately to the door and holds her breath. There’s a presence inside, she’s sure of it. But no one comes when she knocks.

Sighing, she leaves the flowers, and another note promising her friendship, and walks away. 

It takes 5 days.

5 days of notes, 5 days of flowers, 5 days of agonizing over the silence, but Lena is persistent, because she knows Kara would be. She knows Kara is. She’s seen it before, and felt it before. She would have continued for weeks, months, if she had to, because for Lena, Kara will always be worth the extra effort. Deep down, she wonders if Kara knows everything, and instead of hiding from her to suffer in silence, she’s holed up inside refusing to speak to her. It gives her pause, but it is not enough to keep her away. She knows she doesn’t deserve Kara, but she can’t leave her alone right now.

None of it seems to matter much, however, because on the 5th day, Kara opens the door.

Her eyes are red, and she looks small and broken, a shell of herself that shocks Lena to the core. Lena expects this, somewhat, but even still, the sight is a lot to take in from someone who is always so strong, and warm, and brave.

“Hi” Kara says, her voice watery and soft, like it takes her entire being to even produce that much effort.

Lena doesn’t think it’s possible for her heart to break any further, but somehow, it does.

“Hi” Lena parrots back, her eyes wide, Kara’s sudden appearance catching her slightly off guard. She didn’t expect her to answer, but now that she has, she realizes she’s completely unprepared. “I--I brought you--these.”

She hands her yet another bouquet sheepishly, realizing by now that Kara has enough flowers. More than enough flowers. It’s silly, and Lena feels foolish.

“They’re beautiful,” Kara plasters a smile on her face, and accepts the gift. “You always pick the best arrangements.” She sighs, as she inhales, closing her eyes slowly as she takes them in. 

Kara leaves the door open and beckons her to follow, but Lena hesitates.

“I don’t have to stay,” Lena begins, even though her mind is screaming at her not to go anywhere. “Unless you want me to.”

“I think I’d like that.” Kara’s voice is small, and timid, and Lena knows it takes a lot for her to admit she wants the company.

Kara is never someone else’s burden. Lena wishes she could show her that she’s never a burden at all.

She follows her inside. The other flowers are carefully displayed around the apartment, and Lena’s heart skips when she realizes Kara kept them.

That has to mean something, at least.

Kara walks over to the kitchen, and busies herself with the arrangement, carefully placing them in a waiting vase, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She isn’t speaking, just softly plucking at the stems, her face looking resigned and tired. When she finishes, she saunters quietly back to her couch, clutching the vase, placing them on the coffee table before resuming her well-worn spot under her blanket. Lena follows cautiously, taking a tentative seat next to her, settling in when she receives no objection.

A quick beat of silence.

“I’m sorry--” they both begin to say at the same time, their eyes widening when they realize their synchronization. Kara grins, a sad smile across her face, and Lena blushes, staring down at her hands.

“No, Kara, I’m sorry,” Lena begins, “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done…”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Kara says automatically, her voice monotone. She tilts her head in sincerity, but the comments fall flat, lacking her usual enthusiasm.

Lena thinks she’s defaulting into her usual role of protector. She’s trying to reassure Lena that it’s okay, when it certainly isn’t.

Kara is not okay, and this is not about Lena.

“No, I do, you don’t understand,” Lena pauses, weighing the options, but decides it’s better to be up front with the truth. “I created it.”

 Kara doesn’t look surprised. She doesn’t startle, or shrink away. She nods slowly.

“I know,” she breathes quietly, “You’re a genius, Lena.”

 _She knows?  She knows everything, then._ Lena swallows hard.

“But I hurt you in the process,” Lena says, her eyes looking away from Kara in disgust, “It’s because of me that Mon-El is gone. It’s actually because of me that this entire invasion happened in the first place.” she scoffs, rolling her eyes in annoyance at her stupidity. “You shouldn’t have had to lose someone you care about so much because of my actions. I never meant to do that to you.”

“You didn’t,” Kara says quickly. Too quickly. “You gave Supergirl the remote. It was her decision, and hers alone. You didn’t force her hand, Lena. You trusted her to do it. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Lena replies slowly, shaking her head and studying the lines in Kara’s face, the small creases indented in her cheek from laying on her pillow. “I didn’t want her to have to use it.”

“It was the right thing to do. Supergirl has a legacy to protect. She has a duty, a responsibility to the people of National City. She can’t be concerned with herself, or her personal feelings, when it comes to the greater good,” Kara is adamant, now, but Lena isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince Lena, or herself. She stares hard at Lena before finishing. “You would have done the same thing, Lena. I know you would have, because you’ve done it before. Sometimes when faced with those decisions, it’s simply impossible to have it all. I lost this time.” she shrugs, and inhales deeply, as if to control her buzzing mind.

Lena feels this in more ways than she can express. She gets it. Oh, she understands this more than anyone.

The Luthor legacy is one of constant trial, and constant loss.

But to see Kara so lost, and so defeated, it makes Lena forget everything in order to bring her back.

“It’s better it’s me than someone else,” Kara finishes, “I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t have to keep it all together, you know,” Lena says gently, her hand falling comfortably on Kara’s thigh, “It’s just me.”

Kara exhales the breath she had been holding, her eyes staring at the ground, before she turns her head. She searches Lena’s face, blue eyes locking on green, as if asking for permission. Permission to fall apart, permission to just be shattered. A tear slides down her cheek, as she clenches her jaw tightly, trying one last time to desperately to keep her emotions in check. Lena shakes her head, and offers a small smile.

_Let go._

 “It’s okay,” she whispers, opening her arms, “Even heroes fall apart sometimes, Kara.” she says, and she feels Kara slowly melt into her waiting embrace.

There are confessions in the gesture, revelations in the moment, but Lena doesn’t focus on this, and Kara is too broken to care. It settles between them, nestled in comforting hands.

She sobs, and shakes, and breaks apart in Lena’s arms.

She confesses that she doesn’t deserve to be wallowing, but she can’t help how terrified she feels.

Lena thinks she’s more heroic now than ever before.

 “Am I always going to end up alone?” she whimpers, and Lena sighs, because she often asks herself the same question. 

Kara isn’t talking about this moment, she’s talking about all of the moments. Every moment when she thinks she has her life balanced only to watch it go up in flames. Lena knows, because she’s often felt the same way. She doesn’t offer her own thoughts, though. The question is rhetorical and instead she just holds her close, keeping all the pieces together for later. And for once, Kara lets her.

“The worst part isn’t losing him,” Kara whispers after several long minutes of silence, once she is able to regain her voice. “The worst part is what could have been. What _will_ be, because I’m selfish.”

Lena frowns, and stares down at her, her forehead crinkled in confusion.

 “What if it was you?” she finishes, so low, muffled by her face being buried in Lena’s shoulder. But she says it, and the words take a minute to register in Lena’s mind. 

 _Me?_  

“Kara, you aren’t going to lose me --” Lena begins, but the words get tangled in her throat because she could.

 Kara could easily lose Lena. She’s almost lost her several times before.

Before she saved her.

Before she always saves her.

Lena clenches her jaw, and doesn’t know what to say. She wants to promise to always be there, but she doesn’t want to break her word. She knows she’ll never go without a fight. But she isn’t made of steel, and she isn’t a superhero. 

But when it comes to Kara, she will fight.

“You don’t know that,” Kara tugs on the fabric of Lena’s shirt, desperately, “And if I had to choose--” 

“Don’t….” Lena interjects, holding her finger to Kara’s lips, her eyes soft with understanding. “Just...be with me. Here. Now. I know you’re scared, but I’m here, and whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

Kara tenses slightly, then forces herself to relax, sinking further into Lena’s side.

It isn’t a resolution, but it’s a promise filled with hope.

“I love you.” Kara says, settling on the only confession that matters right now.

The words have been implied over and over and over again. They’ve come from everyone else, they’ve come from small every day patterns and they’ve come through their unwavering support of each other.

Lena’s heart flips, but she smiles, because she knows.

She’s always known.

“I know you do,” Lena replies, and even though she doesn’t think she deserves it, she knows it’s true what Kara says. “I love you too.”

“I know you do.” Kara responds, and for now, it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> you know the drill: stennnn06 on tumblr, we cry about Lena and we drink wine.


End file.
